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His face screwed up, and he stuck his little tongue out in expression of his disgust toward garlic. I laughed.
“I love garlic bread,” I told him. “Maybe I’ll just eat all the extra.”
“Ewww, no kisses!” he said.
Vince cackled as we walked into the house. Lindsey poked her head out of the kitchen and gave us a questioning look. “What is that all about?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled.
Vince shook his head. “Your son is just too smart for his own good.”
I gave him a look but he just grinned.
“I’m glad you could join us tonight,” Lindsey said. “Though I don’t know why wouldn’t have been able to. Not like you’ve got a whole lot else going on.”
“And there it is,” I said, rolling my eyes and dropping down onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
“What?” Lindsey asked as she took out the ingredients for a salad and slid them toward me with a cutting board and knife.
“You sound just like my mother,” I said.
“Well, Minnie is delightful, so I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said with a grin.
“Yeah, she’s delightful until she starts poking and prodding about me not being in a relationship,” I said.
“She just wants you to be happy,” Lindsey said.
“Has anyone considered I’m happy just the way I am?”
“Your eyebrows doing their best to introduce your forehead to your nose isn’t making real convincing arguments for you,” Vince said, coming into the kitchen. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“It was just a long day at work. Everything’s fine,” I said.
But the truth was, there was something on my mind. Throughout the rest of the night, it bothered me, constantly pricking in the back of my thoughts. I recognized the name of the investor when I skimmed through the file earlier, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was still on my mind when I got home after dinner with Vince, Lindsey, and Remy. Taking off my tie and grabbing a beer, I went to the living room to look over the file again.
I skimmed through the pages until I found the investor’s name and contact information again. Now that I was reading it over, the name clicked. It was the same guy who had applied to the firm where I got my start five years ago before branching off to start my own. He didn’t get the position then, and I never found out what went into that decision.
Maybe what got him looked over for the position could have something to do with what happened to Bryn’s money. It wasn’t a sure thing, but it might give me more insight. I could give my old boss a call to see if I could find out why he didn’t hire the guy. Checking the time, I realized it was too late to be making that phone call. I’d just give him a call the next day.
Feeling good about my next steps, I got in the shower to wash off the day and try to work some of the tension out of my muscles. Flopping onto my bed, I closed my eyes to try to steal as much sleep as I could from a night that already seemed too short before heading to work early in the morning. As tired as I was, I should have dropped right off to sleep. Instead, all I could think about was pretty brown eyes gazing at me filled with both sadness and fire.5BrynI was never one of those people who had a clear, firm idea about what I wanted to be when I grew up. When I was a little girl, everybody always asked me. Just like every other little child, when I was at school or when I encountered new adults who wanted to get to know me, that was a question I got asked over and over again.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Even when I was really young, it struck me as strange that everybody who heard that question immediately jumped to what type of career they wanted.
So far, the most significant step I had taken to accomplish my goals of financial independence was finding a job where I could work from home. It meant flexibility and freedom. It meant I could be at home and didn’t have to report at any specific time. As long as I got my work done and in by deadlines, that was all that mattered to my clients. That also turned out to be what sometimes made me question my choice. I had to do what needed to be done by the time it was expected, even if it was the very last thing I wanted to be doing.
That’s what I was dealing with that afternoon as I stared at my laptop screen. Freelancing from home was usually a good thing, but at that moment, I was still stewing so much in my anger, I couldn’t make myself focus. Sitting at home was the last thing I wanted to be doing. It made me think too much about Justin and everything he’d put me through. I wanted to be doing something, anything, that could distract me.
